


Chicken Soup

by athingofvikings



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Chicken Soup, Modern AU, Multi, Polyamory, caretaker fic, non-explicit sex jokes, pure tooth-rotting polyamorous fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 14:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16327931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athingofvikings/pseuds/athingofvikings
Summary: Everyone’s sick with the flu, and, as the least-sick one, Hiccup’s making chicken soup for his polycule.





	Chicken Soup

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShipMistress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShipMistress/gifts), [HeathenVampires](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeathenVampires/gifts), [Dischord](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dischord/gifts).



> After a friend of mine got some really vile comments for daring to write Hiccup as bisexual and in a relationship with Eret, I decided that I needed to write bi!Hiccup in solidarity. And then when my wife and I both were sick at the same time and I was buying the ingredients for chicken soup, this story idea was born.

Hiccup shuffled in, feeling sore and gross, the grocery bag obscenely heavy in his hands, and ran his sleeve across his red nose.

Carefully setting the bag down on the kitchen countertop, he went over the wall cabinets and got down the biggest stockpot they had.  Setting it on the stove, he heard the sounds of coughing from elsewhere in the house and felt guilty.  But he was going to fix that.

After filling the filtering jug’s top half with tap water, he started unpacking the grocery bag.  Chicken thighs.  Parsnips.  Turnips.  Carrots.  Celery.  Onions.  Leeks.  The biggest yam he could find.  Fresh dill.  Fresh parsley.  Alphabet noodles. 

Dumping the filtered water into the stock pot and refilling it, he tiredly considered the ingredients for the… fourth? time since entering the grocery store.  Had he forgotten anything?  No…

Getting out the cutting board, knife, vegetable peeler, and cheesecloth, he set to work, the old routine of making chicken soup doable even through his own bleary haze and sniffles.  But _he,_ at least, was ambulatory. 

He skinned and deboned the thighs, and tossed the bones and chicken skin into cheesecloth bags; they’d simmer in the steadily-filling pot to give flavor.   The rest of the meat, though, was chopped into chunks and dropped into the water directly; that was for eating. 

Next was the vegetables; peel and dice, with the peels and such going into another cheesecloth bag for flavor, with the rest of the veggie going in as cubes for eating.  Hiccup had finished peeling the parsnips and turnips when he heard shuffling feet and turned to look.

Eret came into the kitchen, his faux-fur bathrobe huddled around himself, his dragon slippers barely clearing the floor as he took little shuffling steps.  Dark circles around his eyes communicated his exhaustion, while little sniffles came from his red nose.

“What are you doing up?” Hiccup asked his boyfriend blearily.  “You should be in bed.”

Eret moaned and continued to walk in closer.  “So should you.”

Hiccup picked up a carrot and started to peel it.  “I’m at least _mobile._   You look like a draugr.”

“Braiinnnss…” Eret intoned and they both chuckled.  “But, no,” he said.  “Give me a job.  Please.”

Hiccup raised an eyebrow.  “Bed.”

“Noooo… don’t make me go back…” Eret protested in a low whine.  “Astrid won’t stop stealing the covers, and Heather is moaning about how much she hates this and keeps heat-vampiring me.  And her hands are like _ice._ ”

 Hiccup considered for a moment; their girlfriends were the _worst_ patients, after all.  Astrid had tried to do her usual morning stretches and exercises, and the resulting goose-egg on her head when she’d fallen over hadn’t improved her mood at _all._   And Heather, normally as healthy as a horse, was even _worse._

“Fine.”  Hiccup rolled his eyes and put the peeled carrot onto the cutting board next to the other root vegetables.  Handing the peeler over to Eret, he said, “I need another three carrots, two onions, and that yam peeled.  Save the peels and put them in here.”  He indicated the cheesecloth bag.  “I’ll start dicing.”

“Thanks, Hic,” Eret said gratefully, and gave him a clumsy and tired peck on the cheek before setting to work.

As Hiccup started dicing the veggies, he said, “So, how are you feeling, ‘ret?”

Eret turned and gave him a bleery-eyed look that was somehow still deadpan.  “About how you did four days ago.”

“Well, I _did_ say that you looked like the walking undead,” Hiccup bantered.

Eret shivered, even though the kitchen was warm and humid from the twenty-liter pot full of simmering liquid.  “Urgh.  Chills, muscle aches, fatigue, congestion, my eyes feel like they’re going to pop out and go rolling across the floor from the pressure in my head, fatigue, joint aches, and did I mention the fatigue?” he listed off like nurse-orderly he was training to be.

“Well, it’s a virus,” Hiccup said consolingly.  “So, like you told me, bed rest and plenty of fluids.”

Eret scowled as he clumsily peeled the carrot.  “No fair being fair.”

“How does that work exactly?”

“You’re not supposed to quote my own advice back to me,” Eret said petulantly.  “Especially since you were the plague carrier for this.” 

Hiccup winced as he started dicing one of the turnips.  “I said I was sorry.”

“I know, I know.  And it’s not your fault, Hic,” Eret said tiredly.  “I just feel crappy.”

“And it looks like you got chewed up and spat out,” Hiccup offered helpfully.  “So you’re getting it from both ends.”

Eret gave him another tired, deadpan look and, for a moment, looked like he was about to toss him the cleaned carrot, but put it down on the cutting board firmly instead.  “One day, that mouth is going to get you in trouble, Hic.”

Hiccup smirked.  “I thought you liked my mouth, ‘Ret?”

Eret scowled and picked up another carrot—and then took a pointed crunchy bite out of it.

“Eh, what’s cookin’, Doc?” Hiccup said in his best Bugs Bunny impression.

Eret’s scowl grew humorously exaggerated and then he bowed his head.  “Stop picking on the unarmed guy in the battle of wits.”

“Oh, come on,” Hiccup teased.  “You hold your own.  I bet that you could say nothing stupid if you managed it.”

There was a pause, and then Eret said cheerfully, “Nothing stupid.”

They both laughed and continued to prep the soup.  In short order, Hiccup dumped in the last of the diced vegetables into the pot before filling the cheesecloth bags with the last of the peels, roots, skin, bones and herbs and tied them shut.  Tossing them into the pot, he set the stove to simmer, and put the lid on.  “Call it about an hour.”

“Good, ‘cause I am starving,” Eret said tiredly.  He bent over the pot and lifted the lid before taking a deep sniff.  “But, damn, it smells good already.  And, hey, I can _smell_ it.”

Behind him, Hiccup scoffed cheerfully.  “I know that feeling, yep.  One nostril, okay.  Two nostrils, and it’s like the Mines of Moria,” he said as he busied himself with the kettle.

“‘Drums… drums in the deep… they are coming…’” Eret intoned, and took another deep, greedy sniff of the cooking soup.  “Oh, this is going to be good.”

“Yep.  But for now…” Hiccup turned, came up behind Eret, and placed his hands on his shoulders.  “March,” he ordered firmly, and started to gently push Eret in the direction of the bedroom.

“What… nooo…” Eret protested playfully as Hiccup gently manhandled him back to the bedroom.  Inside, their girlfriends were jointly wrapped up in every blanket in the house, shivering despite the air being blood-warm and humid to the point that there was thick condensation on the windows. 

Heather peeked up over the blanket-cocoon and visibly—and evilly—brightened.  “Oh, good.  Astrid, wake up, the blood-snack is back.”

“My body heat!  Mine!” Eret fired back in a petulant tone as Astrid made a sleepy questioning noise. 

“For now,” Heather replied with a tired grin as Astrid yawned. 

 Hiccup took the red hot water bottle that he’d filled while Eret was sniffing the soup out from under his arm and tossed it to her.  “Here, I brought you a blood-bag to drain instead.”

Heather grabbed it; it quickly vanished under the covers, and Heather made a grateful sigh.  “You just saved your life, Hiccup.”

“I know.  I’m too young to be an icicle!” Hiccup said with a grin, and they laughed. 

Astrid, yawning, perked up under the covers where she was cuddled with Heather and sniffed greedily at the air.  “Is that chicken soup I smell?”

Hiccup nodded.  “Yep.  It’ll be ready in about an hour.”  He gently shoved Eret onto the bed and then, with difficulty, managed to free a couple of blankets from the cocoon around Astrid and Heather to cover him.  “You three rest.  I’m going to go start the water for the noodles.”

Eret mumbled something into the pillow, and then yelped as Heather and Astrid shifted under the blankets to pull him into the cuddle.

After returning to the kitchen, Hiccup got out a second pot and filled it with water.  Humming, he tossed in a small spoon of salt and started the heat.  Then he paused and considered for a moment before turning to raid the fridge for ingredients for dumplings. 

The small doughy lumps were just about finished cooking in the second pot when Hiccup heard the shower start, and Heather wandered in, looking even paler and more drained than usual. 

“Hey love,” he said.  “How are you feeling?”

“Thirsty,” she said with a slight rasp to her voice.

Hiccup nodded.  “Water, tea, coffee or cola?”

“Cola.  I’m hoping the carbonation will help with some of this gunk in my throat,” she said, and coughed into her elbow before taking a seat at the breakfast bar. 

Hiccup turned to the fridge and got out a bottle of Coke.  Pouring a measure into a glass, he handed it to her, and she took it gratefully. 

“So, who is in the shower?” he asked.

“Both of them; saves water, you know?” Heather said with a slight smirk.

“Don’t tell me that they’re actually going to try to—”

“No, no.  Or at least, they said they weren’t.  I think it’s more ‘We’re tired and sore, and can help wash this sick-sweat off of each other,’ and Eret being afraid that Ast will fall down again.”

Hiccup grimaced.  “That’s fair.  And what about you?”

“Oh, I’m probably going to kidnap you to do the same with me when they’re done,” Heather said, and took a drink of her cola.  Swallowing, she grimaced.  “The only reason I didn’t join them is because Eret needs the room to work on keeping her standing.”

Hiccup nodded.  “Sounds good to me.  How does the throat feel now?”

“Like I gargled sandpaper,” Heather said.  “So, who gave you this cold in the first place?”

“Tuffnut, I think,” Hiccup said, plucking the finished dumplings out of the pot with a slotted spoon and tossing them into the soup. 

“Think Ruff will mind if I murder him slowly?”

“She got it too and would probably join in, but knowing Tuff, he might enjoy it.”

“Dammit, you’re right.  Recreational murder is off the table,” Heather said with a humorous scowl.  She took another hard swallow of her cola, and the skin around her eyes tightened in slight pain that he remembered all too well.

“Soup is coming.  That’ll help your throat,” he said caringly.

“Mmmh,” she murmured, and took another sip. 

There was a soft meow, and Toothless hopped up into Heather’s lap and promptly stretched himself out.  She laughed hoarsely and started to scratch his back. 

The shower stopped a little while after Hiccup turned the stovetop burners off and had drained the noodles; two more bowls of soup were waiting for Eret and Astrid when they emerged in their bathrobes, both of them looking drained and sore but at least clean and revived by the shower. 

Astrid settled on top of the stool next to Heather, and swayed slightly; both Heather and Eret leaned in to steady her.  She scowled and braced her hands on the countertop.  “I’m all right…”

“Yeah, sure,” Eret said sarcastically.  “No falling over.”

“But the floor looks so comfy…” Astrid deadpanned, and carefully picked up her soup-spoon. 

Hiccup grinned, and they set to eating.  Slurping sounds and trying to get their noodles to spell naughty words ensued for a bit—Astrid won by diligently picking out her favorite sex act letter by letter and arranging it on the rim of the soup bowl—while Eret took a carrot and two dumplings and arranged them suggestively in his bowl. 

The other three of them shared a look, and their spoons all dove for his bowl.  Hiccup got the carrot while each of the girls got a dumpling, and Eret howled in laughing protest.

“That’s not sanitary!” he said through tears of laughter as his three partners ate their prizes. 

Astrid scoffed as Hiccup amused himself by keeping the carrot between his lips.  “Eret, we _already_ share fluids all around, and we’re _already_ all sick.  What _else_ could happen?”

“Well, Hiccup could choke if he keeps playing with that carrot dic— _stick,_ ” Eret said with a wink.

Hiccup pursed his lips around the carrot and, with a waggle of his eyebrows that sent them all laughing and clutching their sides, he smartly sucked the carrot in the rest of the way.

Astrid was turning bright red as she tried to breathe, Heather wasn’t much better, and Eret was trying so hard to keep a straight face, but failing miserably.  Hiccup waited patiently, smirking the whole time, until they had calmed down, and then deadpanned, “Oh, come on, ‘Ret.  You know my gag reflex is better than that.”

Astrid fell out of her chair and barely caught herself on the countertop as she howled with laughter, and Eret cackled.  Heather started to cough alarmingly, staring daggers at Hiccup, even as tears of laughter came from her eyes.  Heather’s daggers switched targets, though, as Astrid said, through her wheezing laughter, “But babe, this isn’t _cream_ of chicken soup!”

As they laughed, Hiccup felt something brush his leg, and looked down, to see Stormfly and Toothless sitting there expectantly.  With a grin, he pulled open the cheesecloth bag with the bones and skin in it and slit it open.  Pulling out the chicken skin, he first checked it to make sure that no bones had gotten embedded in it and then diced it up.  Putting it in a bowl, he carefully knelt, still dizzy from his own recovering flu, and placed it on the floor.

The two fuzzballs, one black and one gray-calico, dove for the bowl and started to chow down instantly. 

He stood back up to find his three partners looking at him with exaggerated expressions of innocence. 

“What?”

Heather, Eret and Astrid looked at each other and then looked back at him, still looking like a group of children with bulging cheeks pretending that they didn’t know why the cookie jar was empty.

He looked down at his bowl and burst out laughing; sitting in the remains of his soup, there was a massive carrot with two whole onions on either side of it, with a thatch of cooked dill at the top.

“Hmm, what an interesting garnish!” he said and plucked the carrot out of the bowl.  “Not wilted at all!”

They all laughed, and he set the vegetables aside.  Refilling their bowls, they moved to the living room and slumped onto the couch.  After some discussion, they settled on The Fellowship Of The Ring, and started to watch as they ate.  By the time Eret dragged out the blankets from the bedroom around the time of the Council of Elrond, they’d polished off half the pot, and were cuddling on the couch, warm and replete, with Hiccup sandwiched between Astrid and Heather, unable to move.  Eret tucked them all in, settling in on Heather’s side.

By the time the credits rolled, Hiccup was the only one still fully awake, with Astrid snoozing on his shoulder and Heather burrowed into Eret’s side with her legs in Hiccup’s lap, and Eret was slumped back, his head lolling about limply. 

With a happy sigh, Hiccup reached out and snagged the remote; powering off the television, he closed his eyes and leaned over onto Astrid.  He still owed Heather that shower from before, but that could wait.  Right now, he was full of soup and love, and the thought of moving for anything short of a critical bladder emergency simply wasn’t up for consideration.  Even sick with the flu, they brought joy to each other, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.


End file.
